Don't Get Too Comfortable
by Big J Bonk
Summary: Morty develops psychic abilities, which is both frightening and exciting. However, they're way more trouble than they're worth, especially for those around him. A crappy Psychokinetic Morty origin story.


**So, I decided I wanted to try writing a Rick and Morty story, because dang, it is so deceptively deep! Specifically, I wanted to write about Psychokinetic Morty because he is the best Morty and he needs a hug. :) Really, it's because it's hard to find any fan work of him, so I wanted to make my contribution.**

 **Fair warning: This is obviously my first RaM story, so I may get some details and characterization wrong. My excuse is that this is an alternate dimension. Also, this is rushed as all hell.**

* * *

Morty didn't remember falling asleep, but he woke up in his bed with a pounding headache. Despite his better judgement, he peeled his eyes open, wincing at the bright numbers on his alarm clock. He squeezed his eyes shut again, groaning as he willed himself to open them once more.

His room was dark; obviously it was still the middle of the night. Still, he was able to see the figure sitting at the foot of his bed, though he was too tired and in too much pain to be startled.

The figure burped, and Morty realized that it was Rick. He was very, very drunk. "It, it-it-it... It's okay, Mmmorty. Just... Just go back to... to sleep, Morty."

Morty was too tired too argue.

(O)

The next time Morty awoke, his room was bright with the sunlight seeping in through the window. This time, he wasn't nearly as bothered, though the headache continued to throb. He reached up to rub slow circles over his forehead, and he paused when he felt the gauze wrapped there. Somewhat alarmed, he trudged as fast as he could to the bathroom, looking in the mirror to see that, in fact, the entire top of his head was wrapped in the stuff. He wanted to know what could have warranted this, but he just couldn't remember. He was afraid to look.

Figuring that Rick must have somehow been involved- he _had_ been sitting on his bed in the middle of the night- Morty decided to go eat breakfast and confront Rick afterwards. Food could only help him right now, and he was pretty hungry.

Dragging his feet down the stairs that suddenly had way too many steps, Morty went to the kitchen, where the rest of the family, sans Rick, already sat. Jerry was on his tablet, Summer was typing away on her phone, and Beth was just coming in with a tray full of toast, eggs, and pancakes.

She was the first to notice Morty. "Oh, honey, what happened to your head?" she asked, notably with only vague comcern.

"I-I don't know," Morty replied, taking a seat and helping himself to three of the pancakes. "I can't remember. I... I dunno, maybe I, uh, hit my head or something yesterday?"

Beth looked extremely worried, and even though she made the appropriate face, to Morty, she radiated uncaring. He blinked hard, his head pounding, and distracted himself by drenching his pancakes in syrup.

Jerry looked up from his paper, upset. "Morty, did Rick have something to do with this?"

Beth gave a tired huff. "Jerry, not everything has to do with my father."

"But haven't you noticed that ever since he started living here, everything's sort of gone to hell?" Jerry shot back, angry but with no real heat behind his words. "And isn't it unusual that Morty would have a head injury the day after he went on one of Rick's adventures?"

"That doesn't mean it's his fault!" Beth raged. Morty felt a sudden wave of disgust, and some thought randomly connected the feeling to Summer. He shook his head lightly, tucking into his pancakes and ignoring the usual morning argument. "Maybe Morty _did_ hit his head, and it has nothing to do with Rick. Didn't you ever consider that?"

Before the argument could get too out of hand, Rick casually staggered in, dumping most of the eggs onto his plate. "Ugh, morning. Sweetie, is Idiot bothering you again?" He received two sets of intense stares in reply. He didn't wait for a proper answer, instead shoveling the eggs into his mouth in heaping forkfuls. Even though Morty hadn't looked at him, he could feel Rick glancing at him as if poking him with a burning stick. The sensation was unusual.

After the meal, Summer slung her backpack over her shoulder, turning to face her brother. "Morty, come on. You're gonna make me late."

"I, wait, I can't go to school like this," Morty whined, gesturing to the bandages.

"If Summer can go to school with a broken wrist, you can go to school with a possible concussion," Beth scolded him, Summer rolling her eyes as she remembered that time a couple years back.

"I guess it doesn't matter, since Rick is just going to pull him out," Jerry grumbled under his breath.

Morty swallowed thickly. His parents clearly didn't know what was going on, but Rick must have. He desperately wanted to go and question him, but he supposed there was no arguing with his parents. Despite the rhythmic throbbing in his temples, he nodded and went upstairs to grab his backpack.

He couldn't quite explain it, but the bus felt more crowded than usual. There were no more people than there usually were, and yet it felt like there was too much noise, too much commotion. Students were shoving each other in their seats as they prattled on about whatever boring gossip they had heard, but they all seemed unnecessarily loud. Morty got the feeling that many of them weren't saying the same things they were thinking. One girl would be talking about her favorite brand of makeup, but the words Morty heard were about how her friend's zits were so awfully apparent that day. The noise made his head pound.

School was even worse. With so many more people crammed into one place, it stood to reason that there would be even more noise. On top of that, Morty found himself trapped in a confusing swirl of emotions, and he knew that none of them belonged to him. _Dennis is upset about losing the football game. Maggie is furious because she caught her boyfriend Chad cheating on her. Louise is excited that she got asked to a dance by Eric._ There was no logical way for Morty to know these things, but he got the feeling that it somehow had to do with his head injury. What else could it be?

 _Wouldn't it be the funniest thing if it turned out I really was psychic?_ he thought.

Just to humor himself, and perhaps to get his mind off of the constant noise in his brain, when he opened his locker, he thought about making one of his textbooks levitate. He just wanted to know if it was true, and he wasn't reading into this too much, or going crazy. The book didn't even shift, and all Morty got was an even worse headache. With a groan, he shut his locker and went to class.

The day went by in complete agony. Morty couldn't even hear any of his teachers properly through the students' endless chatter. It was even worse when someone in the class was sleeping, which tended to be a rather large majority of the students. Morty was sure that he had bombed all of his quizzes. By the time math rolled around, he just wanted to go home and get away from the noise.

Throughout the class, Morty kept his head on his desk, his arms crossed beneath his forehead. He hoped that it would be enough to block everything out, but of course, it didn't work. However, he found that it helped if he actually focused on one person; it didn't completely drown anything out, and the person would still sound like two or three, but it was a drastic improvement.

That was, until the person he was focused on, the teacher, called on him.

"Morty, can you tell me what the square root of sixty-four is?" Mr. Goldenfold asked.

Morty's head snapped up, and he felt himself panicking. The teacher had written the problem on the board and was watching him expectantly. No, he had no idea how to do a problem like that, he couldn't focus. What even _was_ a square root?! He swore he could feel the desk shaking.

It didn't help that the other students' voices had suddenly become crystal clear. _Come on, this is so obvious... Is he okay...? The answer is eight,_ dumbass... _What a moron, doesn't he know it's thirty-two...? I think he's sick. What's with the mummy getup...? Why didn't the teacher pick someone who actually knew the answer?_

Unbeknownst to Morty, Mr. Goldenfold's nose had started bleeding, but if the teacher noticed, he didn't let on. "Any time now, Morty. We still have the rest of the lesson to get to."

"Hold... Hold on," Morty stammered, eyes flicking rapidly as he tried to sort out his thoughts. "I just... I-I-I just need to..." It was no good, he just didn't know, and everyone was staring at him, and he couldn't _focus,_ he couldn't _think,_ and he didn't know the answer, and...

All at once, Goldenfold's body lurched to the side as if pulled by a string, then the other way. All of his limbs crumpled with a sickening _crack,_ followed by his neck and torso, forcing the blood out of every opening in his body, including his pores. He stayed like that a moment, suspended in the air, then fell to the ground at the same time Morty's desk did.

For a long time, everyone stared at their teacher's corpse, not sure what to make of him and wondering if they should be panicking right now.

Class let out early.

(O)

Morty slammed the garage door open, startling Rick into knocking some important and potentially deadly chemical over. "Rick, I need answers, right now!"

"Woah, woah, Morty, calm down," Rick said, waving his hands in a placating gesture. "I'm busy right now, so it's, it's gonna have to wait-"

"No, I mean _right now!_ " Morty shouted, stomping up to his grandpa, who had yet to even really look at him. "I need to know what happened yesterday! I, I keep hearing people talk when they're not talking, and I'm feeling what they feel, and... and I _killed_ my math teacher, Rick!" His shirt fluttered briefly. "...What did you do to me?"

Morty expected Rick to laugh, or tease him, or compliment him on his math teacher even. He didn't expect Rick to be stony and silent. The madman contemplated his flask, decided to leave it be, and swung around in his chair, his face carefully blank. "Let me see your forehead, Morty."

Morty blinked in confusion, then in barely suppressed anger. "Wh... _Why?!_ Answer me, Rick!"

"Just lemme see it, you little shit!" The kid silently fumed, but he unraveled the gauze anyway to let Rick see whatever it was he wanted to see.

Rick stared at the remarkably small mark on Morty's forehead and frowned. He reached forward as if to touch it, but then Morty winced, and Rick's hand jerked away of its own accord. His frown deepened, and he started typing away at some device. "Shit," he grumbled.

"What?" Morty asked, terrified. "What's going on, w-w-w-w-what the hell is going on, Rick?!"

"I didn't do anything to you," Rick finally answered, windows popping up on the device's screen and revealing it to be some sort of computer. "When we were on that planet, we got attacked by some sort of huge scary alien. You, you remember that, right Morty?"

"I don't remember much of anything yesterday," Morty said slowly, knowing he was going to get an answer if he was patient.

"Well, it happened. We were trying to find some Mega Seeds for one of my experiments, but you got hurt pret-ty bad by one of the planet's inhabitants." Rick turned the computer to face Morty so that he could see an image of the alien he'd pulled up. "This thing is called a Flambajam. Flambajams eat Mega Fruit, Morty. They eat it, and their body, they modify it somehow, into some sort of really fucked-up toxin. Apparently, only a few people have survived getting attacked by this bastard. You got reeeally lucky, Morty."

Morty furrowed his brows. "...What does that have to do with... whatever's going on with me?"

"Do you even know what Mega Seeds _do,_ Morty?" Rick asked, shutting down the computer. "Mega Seeds are known to highly raise your intelligence for a short time, but then make you have, like, a seizure or something. Flambajams, though, it says here that they use the Mega Fruit's juices or whatever and mix it with some fluid in their bodies, and the result is a toxin that drives its victims mad before destroying the nervous system. I had to go murder that thing's ass to come up with an antivenom, so I hope you're fucking grateful, Morty."

Morty's eyes bugged out, not realizing he'd come so close to dying. "Is that why you were in my room last night? To give me the, the antivenom?"

Rick narrowed his eyes and started fiddling with something on his desk. "I wasn't in your room last night, Morty. You were imagining it, it's just a symptom of... of almost dying. From the toxin. But seriously, stop fantasizing about me." Morty could feel the lie.

"Well... What are we gonna do, Rick?" He asked. "Like, i-is this gonna wear off, or is it gonna get worse...?"

"I... don't actually know," Rick admitted. "Not everyone gets hit in the head, Morty. Most of the time, the thing pretty much guts you, so maybe it works different for you. Because most of the reports I found, no one developed weird empathy powers or whatever you got."

"So... This isn't normal?"

"Were you even listening to me, Morty?" Rick demanded. "I just said it wasn't normal, so you should just... stop asking stupid questions." He took a quick drink from his flask. "Alright, so tell me what happened, and-and we'll try to figure this out."

So Morty spent the next fifteen minutes explaining what happened throughout the day, from the incident at breakfast to the voices at school to mentally crushing the math teacher. Rick just listened quietly, occasionally writing things down on a notepad. By the end of the story, Morty was beyond anxious.

"So, first of all, you killing the teacher? Hilarious," Rick started. "Second, I think the fact that you... th-that you got hit in the head, Morty, I think that the toxin, it did something to your brain, because you're psychic or something, Morty. You're psychic."

"I'm... psychic?" Morty asked. "But-But how would that even happen?! I get attacked by some-by some alien, and suddenly I can read minds, and move stuff around with my brain?!"

"Seems like it," Rick grunted. "So here's what we're gonna do. We're gonna get this shit figured BUOOOut, and you-you're gonna... set yourself straight, Morty. You can't just, just run around and blow people up, Morty. You gotta curb that shit, nip it in the bud. Knock that shit off."

Morty glared at Rick. "And how am I supposed to do that, Rick? I mean, I didn't exactly do that on purpose, you know."

"I-I-I dunno, Morty," Rick groaned, rummaging through one of the cupboards beneath his desk. "Start doing stuff until... until you're doing it on purpose."

"I'm not blowing people up, Rick."

"What about Jerry? No one will miss him."

"Rick!"

"Okay! Fine! Here, use this," Rick finally backed away from the cupboard, tossing a few small objects onto the desk. "Make these things float. You're not- urp- leaving the room 'til you do, Morty."

"Oh jeeze Rick, I can't do that," Morty whined. "I-I tried it with a book earlier, and I, it didn't work."

"You crushed your math teacher to death today, Morty," Rick pointed out. "I'm pretty sure this is gonna be, like, ten times easier than that." Morty had to admit that he had a fair point, so he agreed to stay in the garage to get a handle on his newfound ability.

The two spent close to an hour trying to get Morty to make the little bits of scrap metal on the desk float. More often than not, he would get frustrated when it didn't work and end up causing some other unintended effect, usually crushing something he wasn't even paying any attention to. Rick was going to be needing a new microscope, which he was none too pleased with.

"This isn't working," Morty huffed. "This is supposed to be the one thing all psychics can do, isn't it?"

"Well, obviously you're doing it wrong, _Morty,_ " said Rick. "Whene-Whene-Whenever you try too hard, you start wrecking my shit, Morty, so try _not_ doing that, maybe."

Morty couldn't help feeling annoyed- who was Rick to tell him how telekinesis works? He wasn't the one who had to deal with it- but instead of lashing out, he sighed, deciding that the suggestion was worth a shot.

When another hour went by with absolutely no progress, Morty finally threw his hands into the air. "That's it, Rick. I can't do it. I'm tired, and I just- I wanna go to bed."

Rick stood up straight, furrowing his brow. "What? No, y-y-you can't do that. You'll probably... destroy the house, that's what you'll do."

"Don't try to convince me you'll lock me in here," Morty spat. "I already know you're not going to. At least... At least I can do that." Sure enough, Morty opened the door and stepped into the house entirely unimpeded. Still, that didn't stop him from feeling a strong sense of worry, with just a touch of fear.

(O)

Morty refused to go to school the next day, telling his parents that he'd caught some kind of alien bug when he'd been with Rick. The only reason this worked was because Jerry was worried that letting him go to school would set loose some dangerously contagious disease that would take over the world. (Beth shot the notion down, although Morty knew she was equally worried.) He stayed in his room for most of the day, trying to get his pencil to come to him from across the room. It hadn't worked, though he hadn't expected it to. Although, he found that ignoring his family's emotions had gotten easier all on its own. At least that was a plus.

One thing that unsettled Morty, though, was how easy it was to destroy things. All he had to do was focus on an object too hard or for too long, and it would either crumple into itself or explode. He'd ruined most of his pens and even his lamp like that.

Feeling like a break was deserved, Morty spent some time scrolling through his phone. There were all kinds of websites about the supernatural, so he was bound to find something useful. Most of what he found seemed like a bunch of made-up mumbo jumbo, but a little of it actually seemed a bit useful. The way one person put it, telekinesis was like having invisible hands. If you stare at something enough, the hand will form inside it. If you want to move the object, you need to form the hand _around_ it. It was obviously just some blogger's theory, but it made enough sense to be worth a try.

It took a few attempts, but the strategy actually worked. Instead of imagining grabbing his pencil like he had been before, he pictured himself scooping it up. In almost no time at all, he had books spiraling around his head in slow circles, and he laughed in victory. He had to go show Rick!

Rick appeared to be just as excited by Morty's breakthrough as he was. He kept telling him to pick up larger and heavier things, which Morty gladly did without breaking any more of his inventions. They soon discovered that he was limited to smaller objects, but they agreed that he would keep practicing to prevent any more... accidents.

Over the next few days, Morty decided that he was ready to go back to school, and according to him, nothing else had gone wrong (in fact, the new math teacher was super hot). While he was home, he would keep practicing with his newfound abilities, usually using them to pass tools to Rick when he asked for them. Within a week, he was almost strong enough to lift the ship up. Having the ability to move things at will, static making his hair raise, Morty was exhilarated.

His telekinesis wasn't the only thing that improved, either. Not only was he able to read a person's emotions, he was even starting to read their thoughts. He could tell when an argument was going to start at the dinner table, and deflect it by bringing up something at school. He knew when someone was coming to his room, or whether or not Summer was planning on sneaking out that night.

Still, it came as a surprise when Rick started thinking about taking him on another adventure.

Morty came to Rick, shutting the garage door behind him. "Rick, is it true that, that you want to take me with you later today?"

Rick sat up quickly, turning away from his latest project. "What? How did you... Oh, right. Yeah. I need a new part for this thing, but Earth doesn't have the materials I need to make it." Morty noticed that he hadn't had anything to drink yet. "You know, I could use a lookout. What I need, it isn't exactly commercially available."

"We would have to steal it," Morty clarified.

"Yeeup. So, you wanna come with?"

"Rick, I'm not going to help you steal some... some alien crap!" Morty objected. "Stealing is wrong, I'm not going to help you do that."

"Okay, fine, I'll do it myself. Jesus." Even though the issue seemed to be dropped, Morty could tell it was anything but. He heard thoughts about armed guards, giant lasers, the occasional drink, and generally how dangerous the mission was going to be. Even though Morty was sure Rick was intentionally projecting his ideas, he knew that he was going whether he came with him or not.

Morty let out a defeated sigh. "You're gonna get yourself killed if I don't go, aren't you?"

"I'm not gonna lie to you, Morty, it'll probably happen," Rick answered with mock innocence. "I mean, if you want my death to be on your head, that's fine. I'm not gonna force you to go with me or anything."

Morty growled in annoyance. "Do you really think I don't know what you're doing, Rick?" His grandpa didn't answer him, so he huffed. "Fine, I'll go with you, happy?"

"Neato!" Rick cheered. "Be ready in two hours. We're not stopping for a bathroom once we're there."

Three hours later, Rick and Morty climbed into the ship, brushing old bottles off of the seats, and in seconds they had breached the earth's atmosphere. Morty couldn't help feeling anxious. He didn't know why Rick wanted him to come on a mission that was apparently so dangerous, and nothing he could glean from his mind was giving him any hints. He had gotten used to knowing things, and not knowing was putting him on edge.

"Morty, whatever you're doing, knock it off," Rick scolded him. "You're throwing off the GPS."

The trip didn't take long at all. Within the hour, they had reached a rather small planet, not much larger than the moon. From space, it looked like a mass of swirling yellows and oranges, dotted with deep magenta.

"Here we are, Morty," Rick announced. "Planet C-928 Kappa. We gotta be careful here, Morty. The Federation has control of this planet."

"What's the Federation?" Morty asked. He shook his head. "Never mind, I-I get it. Then why are we here? Couldn't we just, I dunno, go to a planet they _haven't_ taken over?"

"No can do," Rick replied. "What I need can only be found on this planet. It's a super rare mineral, Morty. We gotta... This is where you find it."

Rick steered the ship towards the planet, easily finding a landing spot near a tall, bluish-grey building. The fact that they could made Morty beyond nervous. "I don't know about this, Rick. D-Don't you think that was too easy?"

"Pff, the Federation runs most of the universe, Morty," Rick said, rolling his eyes and climbing out. "They would never expect to be invaded on a planet they own. Now, you see those guards over there? Take their guns away so they can't shoot us."

It struck Morty then. He knew why Rick wanted him to come so badly. "...You brought me so you could use my powers."

"Uh, yeah. Is that a crime?"

"Rick! I-I can't believe you would even do that! This is a terrible idea!"

"Shut up for a second, would you, Morty? Those guys are going to know we're here, and they're going to shoot at us. You want that to happen? Keep complaining. If you don't, then shut the fuck up and disarm them."

Morty fumed silently, but he peeked around the building at the guards and relieved them of their weapons with a thought. While they were confused, Rick hopped out of his hiding place, pulling his laser gun out and shooting every last one.

"Rick!" Morty gasped, dropping the guns. "They-They were unarmed, what the hell?!"

"They were assholes, Morty. Now come on, they have a silent alarm, and more guards are going to show up if we don't get moving!" He started running, and Morty had no choice but to follow him. The two of them climbed up the building, with Rick shooting at the soldiers and Morty disarming those that knew they were there. They climbed higher and higher, and pretty soon they came to a large metal door.

"I don't have the code, Morty! Open it with your brain!" Rick commanded. Morty glanced behind them briefly, wide-eyed, and turned back to the door, straining for a moment before ripping it out of its frame. He threw it back behind them, hitting and pinning down the guards that had just rounded the corner. He didn't think about how badly hurt they were. Adrenaline was coursing through him, and Rick's excitement was starting to rub off on him.

Inside the room was a series of small cubicles, stacked from floor to ceiling and stretching to each end of the room. Rick laughed, pulling out a large sack- Morty had no idea where it came from- and shoveling the contents of the cubicles into it. When it was full of reddish crystals almost to bursting, Rick exclaimed, "We gotta go now, Morty!"

The two ran back the way they came, and Morty ran ahead of Rick. "G-Go right, there's more guards on the left!" He looked over his shoulder to throw the guards into the wall, and he did the same with every other guard they came across. However, just before getting back outside, he skidded to a halt. "The-They have us trapped, Rick! They have ships!"

"Well, so do we!" Rick pulled Morty along, running outside and shooting at a few of the ships waiting for them there. He yanked Morty into the ship, hopping in after him and revving up the engine. He took to the air, firing a last couple of shots before escaping the planet, the remaining ships unable to keep up.

Rick took a glance behind himself, making sure his pursuers were well behind him. "Wo-ho-hoah, Morty, did you see that?! We totally lost those losers!"

Morty was too shaken to even be upset about his grandfather dragging him around in front of a small fleet of Federation ships. "Um, oh yeah, yeah! We-We sure showed them, Rick!"

"Hahah, you better beUUURRlieve it, Morty! Did you... Did you see the looks on their dumb ali-" Rick was unable to finish his thought, as the ship was suddenly rocked by a small explosion, and the two of them were falling back towards the planet they had just escaped.

The ship hit the ground hard, tumbling and skidding, leaving several scrap parts behind every time it hopped. It skidded to a stop hundreds of feet away from the site of the impact, releasing an ugly plume of smoke.

It was a long time before Morty was able to force himself to consciousness. His entire body was screaming at him, covered in all manner of bruises, cuts, and gashes. Heaving, he slowly crawled his way out of the wreck, leaving behind a trail of blood. Once he was out, he flopped to the ground, hurt and exhausted.

Then it struck him that Rick hadn't come out with him.

Eyes snapping open, Morty scrambled to his feet, staggering back to the smoking ship. He tried to get Rick''s door open, but it wouldn't budge, so he simply ripped it away, his brain still half-asleep. He tore at the metal, and he gasped at what he found.

Blood. That was all that could be used to describe it. There was barely even anything left that could be called a body. The lump of flesh and burned clothing wasn't even in the seat anymore. There was no way Rick was still alive.

"No, no no no no, Rick!" Morty tried to dig Rick's body out, not accepting that he was really gone. Federation ships were landing behind him, soldiers pouring out, but he was unaware of them. "Come on, Rick, y-y-you just came back! Rick!" His mind reached out, hoping to find some stray thought or feeling from the man. His head felt like it was on fire.

The soldiers were gaining on him, surrounding him with their weapons drawn. One of them approached him, grabbing him to wrench his hands roughly behind his back.

Morty couldn't say what happened after that. His head had felt like it was about to explode, then everything was a blur of colors that he couldn't be bothered to name. When he next came to, he was piloting a ship he had no idea how to operate, splattered with an oily black substance he didn't want to think about. He didn't leave much of the scene behind him.

Everything after that was sort of a blur.

(O)

Days went by, weeks, and then months. Morty had unknowingly become a criminal in the eyes of the Federation, forcing him to stay on the move. And even though he wished they wouldn't, his powers kept on growing. He tried to ignore them, but they only got out of hand. Everywhere he went, there would be news of unusual weather or natural disasters. Once, he'd accidentally almost destroyed a planet by pulling in its moon. The harder he tried to cover up his abilities, the more they made themselves known.

He wished Rick was here to help him out.

But the fact was, he wasn't. He was gone, and no one else was going to be able or willing to help him. No one could hide him or teach him how to regain control of his powers, and no one would want to. He couldn't get close to anybody. They were all afraid of him. He was by himself.

Until Rick stepped through a portal that appeared right on front of him.

For the first time in weeks, Morty's hair died down, shocked and wide-eyed. "...Rick...? But... But you're dead..." This Rick, though, he wasn't the same. This Rick didn't have the bags under his eyes that he remembered, and his skin wasn't so deathly pale. There was no flask in sight.

Morty's energy flared to life, pushing the "Rick" back and making the ground beneath their feet wave. "You're not Rick! G-Get the hell away from me!"

"There's more than one Rick, Morty!" The Rick yelled, trying to push through the sudden maelstrom. "And you're not the only Morty this has happened to! I can help you!"

"You can't help me!" Morty shouted back, giving the Rick another shove. "You want to turn me in, just like everyone else!"

"No, I don't want that! I want to help you!"

Morty hesitated. "...How do I know that...?"

The Rick stepped closer, finding that he could. "Because I know you can feel it, Morty. You know I can help you. I can make the pain go away."

And it was true. This was a Rick, though definitely no Rick Morty knew, and he really did have the means of protecting him. The roaring energy died down, and the Rick was allowed to approach him, wrapping him in a tight hug. There was a brief pain in Morty's temple, but it was gone in a second, and he could finally relax, releasing a shuddering breath.

He'd found his Rick.

* * *

 **Hooray, I've written the first ever RaM fic not to have romance, drug abuse, or suicide.**

 **I'm sorry this is so rushed and terrible. I wanted to make it a multi-chapter fic, but I've already promised my readers a sequel to another story. Maybe I'll get back to this one day and fix the crap out of it.**

 **Well, I hope you guys enjoyed it anyway!**


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